


A Knock at the Door

by bendthekneejon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Internal Conflict, Post Season 7, R Plus L Equals J, Smut, but looooove!! eternal love! powerful love!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:11:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendthekneejon/pseuds/bendthekneejon
Summary: Jon tells Dany about his true parentage and things go better than expected ;)Written from both POVs.





	A Knock at the Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vm86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vm86/gifts).



> Written for @vm86, who donated to the Jonerys Charity Drive for UN Women in exchange for this story! This one’s for you and I hope it’s up to your expectations. For anyone else interested in donating to UN Women: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/joneryshelpswomen

His hand trembled as he knocked on Dany’s door at Winterfell that night. It reminded him of the exact same act on the ship their first night together, the first night they had made love. Jon closed his eyes and dried his palms on the sides of his hips. He did not want to think about making love to her, not now. He was not sure how he should feel about it. He was not sure how _she_ would feel about it after tonight. Targaryens had been together for centuries, hadn’t they? His grandparents, Rickard and Lyanna, were cousins, and so were Tywin and Joanna Lannister. There were plenty of cases in Westeros. But it was difficult to calm down his anxiety, his damp hands, the quick beat of his heart, and the knot in his stomach. Would Dany love him anyway, just like other Targaryens did among them? Or could this be another element that made her different from the rest of them? She had grown up in a different continent, in another culture...what if this did not seem right to her? He tried to push the thought aside, she had lived with the dothraki. Everybody knew they were extremely open when it came to coupling, they made love in public and had no shame about it. But did they also accept it when family was involved, though?

To top it off, he wondered what her reaction would be when he told her he was the rightful heir to the Throne, something she had fiercely pursued for years. He did not want the Throne, but would she believe it? The uncertainty was killing him. He could feel it in his entire body, tingling his limbs, pressing his stomach.

How curious, he thought, that the image of his trembling hand against the hard wood of her door took him back to the first time they made their love explicit, when that same act now could mean the beginning of its end.

Dany opened the door with a tired smile that signaled the end of a long day, their first day at Winterfell. Bran and Sam had not even allowed him some quiet time in the castle after he met Arya and Sansa, they had said they needed a private meeting, that it was a matter of urgency.

Dany was wearing her bed robes. She stepped aside and let him in, a natural act now that they had spent many nights together. She had been waiting not too patiently for him to come to her chambers. There was so much she wanted to hear about what he and Bran had talked.

“Will we spend the night here or in your chambers?” she asked him as she loosened the braids in her hair. “Or should we spend this first night on our own?”

The main guest room had been prepared for her, as they had not yet let the Starks know about their romance.

He stuttered as he sat on the edge of her bed. That truly was a difficult question now. He ended up saying he did not know yet. She nodded.

He watched her slim and small body as she walked across the room to the fireplace, squatted down and added more firewood into it. It was the body that had caught him off guard when he saw the Dragon Queen for the first time, the fierce and ruthless woman the men talked about, so petite and beautiful.

“It’s getting colder,” she said with her back to him. He watched her silver-gold hair, messy from the braids she had been loosening. He remembered all the times he had touched her in their trip to the North. He breathed deeply, wondering once again if he should be thinking about his aunt this way. Why not, though? Many family members from different houses have done so over time. But did its prevalence make it correct?

“Ye-yes. Yes. That’s why Winterfell is called Winterfell,” he tried to jest to diffuse a tension only he felt.

She chuckled and turned to him, “I figured that out when I arrived, I think.”

He smiled to himself. Now that they were so comfortable with one another, enough to jest around, it felt even more painful to bring up the subject of his parentage and perhaps break this mutual comfortableness.

There were two large couches before the fireplace, one on either side of it. It was the main guest room, after all. She lifted some furs that were resting on the backrest of one and covered herself with them. She patted the free space next to her with a sweet smile and tired eyes. He walked up to her and sat down. She covered them both with the furs, up to their shoulders, and adjusted her body for their sides to be against each other. It felt so nice, so tender. He couldn’t help but smile. He loved her so much, yet neither of them had pronounced those words to each other yet. Under the covers, she held his arm with both hands and rubbed it with her thumb. He turned his head and kissed her forehead. She let out a tiny hum as she exhaled. It was a quiet and lovely moment he did not want to interrupt nor end. He wanted to cherish it for some minutes. He had never had anyone with whom he could have these tiny yet meaningful caresses. His relationship with Ygritte had been hungry and carnal, and he had never guessed how small gestures could sometimes even feel better than coupling. Dany, likewise, felt so warm and comfortable with him that she was forgetting about the meeting with the northern lords the following day, who probably despised her. Her thoughts were now about Jon and Jon only, about his warm body against hers and the memory of his lips on her head. It felt so good to be loved this way, in such a sweet and tender way, instead of an entirely lustful relationship like the one with Daario.

“You have a lovely family. I’m happy for you. I’m happy your brother and sister are alive.”

And just like that, without it being her intention, his calm was replaced by nervousness again. They were not his brother and sister. They were his cousins. He closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing at a normal pace for her not to notice anything out of place. Dany smiled, not having a clue about what was going through his mind. She was thinking about how bad she wished she could have a family, but seeing the man she loved reuniting with his siblings had filled her with joy anyway. His happiness made her happy.

For Jon, this arrival had been loaded with a number of different feelings that had exhausted him as a tough battle would. Seeing Bran again, seeing Arya again, seeing Sam again, arriving with Daenerys, and finally, finding out about his parentage. He felt dizzy. Perhaps this was the day he had experienced the highest number of different feelings in his life.

He watched the fire, hearing the tiny sounds of burning wood and watching the flames and their hot breath, flying up. It reminded him of the Targaryen fire, of a dragon’s breath, of the good and the bad reputation that preceded this family, of the fear that such fire instilled in the people. But there had been remarkable and even good-hearted Targaryen rulers as well. Jahearys I and Queen Alysane, Dareon II, and Aegon V were the top ones in his head, part of a vague memory of his history lessons in this same castle. He stared at the fire dancing in the middle of Winterfell, just like them, two Targaryens in the Starks’ seat.

“I talked with Sam and Bran,” he started, and felt a pressure in his stomach right away. He swallowed hard, there was a lump in his throat that tried to stop him from speaking further. But he had to. This was also about her.

“Yes,” she remembered. “What did they say? Does Bran have any news about the White Walkers?”

He breathed. “They’re getting closer by the second.”

He remembered that besides their romance, besides the complications they could potentially have, they still had a bigger reason to be together: to save Westeros. He wondered if his love for her was bigger than his duty to save the country. Either way, to be with her they had to save the country, or else they would die. So, those nights when she slept beside him and he wanted to leave it all behind, to go away and live with her alone for the rest of their lives, he remembered that they could not do so without fighting the war against the Army of the Dead before. Love and duty.

 _‘I wish we could put the whole population of Westeros in ships, take everyone to Essos, and we would all save ourselves,’_ she had told him one night. It had made him laugh out loud. If only things could be that easy.

“What else?” Dany asked. “What else has Bran seen? Any…any clearer visions? Any…”

“He told me about my mother,” he jumped straight to the point. The sooner he spoke, the sooner this torturous uncertainty would end.

“Oh,” Dany turned to look at him. “He…has he seen who she is?” she covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s wonderful! Oh, Jon, tell me! Is she alive?”

Jon shook his head. Dany gave him a sad smile and rubbed his arm up and down.

“I’m sorry. I’m certain your father must have loved her. Ned Stark was a truly honorable man…”

Jon knew he had tried to save her life from Robert’s assassins, and now he knew he had also saved his life by taking him in. Ned Stark, whom he had looked up to his whole life, from whom he had learned the importance of honor and honesty, had been the biggest liar. Could he blame him, though? He had also taught him family was first, and he had indeed lived up to that value, protecting his nephew to the point of dirtying his own honor. Jon's chest rose and fell with a deep breath. The dizziness grew stronger and his hands felt like they were tingling.

“If I tell you…something private…a secret…” _will you keep it?_ he wanted to finish. But this secret included her too. This secret was about the both of them. It affected her as much as him. Letting her know was imperative.

She nodded right away. “I promise, I swear, I will keep it. You need not worry, Jon.”

He shut his eyes hard and dropped his head down.

“Oh, Jon,” she cupped his cheek and turned his face to her. He opened his eyes again. “Trust me. You can share with me whatever you want. I promise I will not tell.”

She had shared with him many secrets she had not told others, along with many feelings and worries she had always hidden to herself. He had done the same with her. So, the issue was not trust, but the uncertainty about their future together, and the fear of saying those words out loud...as if once he spoke them, they would finally come true.

Jon breathed. “It’s…It’s difficult…it’s not…”

Dany nodded. She turned her body to face him. “I understand. You have wanted to know who she is your whole life and you finally know. I understand it must be…surprising”

He sighed. She was so good to him, so understanding. He turned his body as well to face her completely, and pressed his sweaty hands together.

“Rhaegar…Rhaegar kidnapped my aunt Lyanna…” he could only bring himself to say.

“I know, I…I know, yes.”

“That is…that is what m…most people think. But Bran…he saw…”

Dany nodded, wondering why he had changed the subject of his mother. Perhaps he did not trust her enough to tell her. It saddened her.

“They loved each other. He saw it. They even got married.”

“No,” she shook her head. “My brother kidnapped her, he raped her. That’s how the rebellion started.”

“Lyanna wanted to be with him. He saw it. Bran saw it.”

Dany frowned. “She loved Rhaegar?”

Jon nodded. He held back his tears. His throat felt like it was shrinking from the sides, not wanting to allow him to speak those words. He tried to fight it. This affected her as much as it affected him.

He loved her. Did she love him, though? If she truly did, would she stay with him no matter what? Or would she change her mind? Would she stop seeing her as a lover and only as a nephew? Would he be able to see her as both a lover and aunt? Would she choose the Throne over him? He swallowed his nerves and held back his tears.

“I’m their son.”

She frowned and stared at him.

“I’m their son,” he looked into her eyes.

She shook her head. “No, that’s…that’s not true. Rhaegar and Lyanna, they…”

“Bran...he is not a liar.”

“I’m not saying he is one, I’m saying he could be wrong. He could have…gotten confused…thought he saw something that was not true…he, he…”

“Sam read in the High Septon’s diary that he married them. It is true. I’m their son. _I’m their son_ …I’m their…” he burst into tears. He had never cried this way in front of anyone else.

She held his head and he dropped it on her shoulder. He let himself cry against it, while she held his head with her face against it. Could it be true? Dany wondered. Jon Snow…Rhaegar’s son? Jon Snow, with his dark, thick hair and grey eyes, could he be her family?

“Jon…Jon, are you sure? Is Bran sure? How…? How? Jon…how could this be?”

He nodded between his cries. “It is true, it is true.”

He kept his head on her shoulder, afraid to look back up at her and seeing her expression, afraid that it would give away an aversion to such news.

“It can’t be. Rhaegar and Lyanna?” she still could not fathom it.

“My father…I mean, Eddard…he promised my mother he would raise me as his own son to protect me. Bran saw it. He saw it all.”

Dany hugged him. She pressed her body against him while she held his head with her hands. He hugged her back.

Dany wondered what had him so emotional. Was it happiness from finally knowing who his family was? Was it delusion from not being Ned’s son, and Bran, Sansa and Arya’s brother? Was it frustration about being a Targaryen? She hoped it was not the latter. 

“How…how could this be…” she kept on thinking out loud. 

She pressed her lips against his head, which made a loud sound that transmitted nothing but reassurance to him. But even so, was it proof that she still wanted him romantically?

“I need to know…I need to know…” he wept. He had cried often as a child, on his own, in this same castle, whenever he was treated differently for being a bastard, or when he wished with all his strength he could know who his mother was. How curious that now he was crying in this same castle for having the answer to those questions.

“Yes?” she said softly, and kissed his head again. The King in the North, crying in her arms. She felt like she would do whatever it took to end his suffering. If only she could understand what had him so moved!

“I’m your _brother’s son_ ,” he cried. “Many Westerosi…fall in love, or…marry a relative. Targaryens had done so for centuries, even my grandparents, Rickard and Lyarra, were cousins. But…but I want to know how _you_ feel about this, I…”

“Yes, I…” she let go of him and stared at his damp face. “I always thought I would marry my brother. I hated the idea. Not because I would marry a brother, but because I would marry _him_. He was not a good man. He made me suffer too much…he…” she held his cheek and dried his tears with her thumb, “he was not you.”

Another tear fell to his cheek right away.

She smiled and tears filled her eyes, like water filling a cup that would soon overflow. “I have a family member…alive.” She allowed herself to weep. “We are the only family we have left!”

He hugged her to him again. The King in the North, one of the best and bravest fighters in the world, one of the people who had endured the most suffering in his life, who had even died and come back to life, was crying before her. And the Mother of Dragons, known as the fiercest woman in the world, who had been sold, raped, had freed slaves and gotten armies on her own wit, was crying before him. They were everything they had. They were family.

He sniffed, “I want to be with you.”

“Me too,” her voice broke in a way he had not heard since the death of Viserion. “No matter what.”

She was his aunt, yet she was the woman who taught him how strong love could be. She had understood his sacrifices, she had loved him as he was, looking past his status as a bastard. She did not love his title nor his armies, she loved Jon, just like Jon loved Dany.

“I’m not a bastard,” he said. She held both his cheeks and grinned with her eyes filled with tears. “I’m the rightful heir to the throne…” but before she could say anything, he said, “But I don’t want to be King of the Seven Kingdoms…I…we could tell no one about this. If this stays between us, you will still be the rightful heir. You…you don’t have to worry, you…”

Dany shook her head with a smile and damp eyes. The Iron Throne was her duty, yet she loved Jon unconditionally. She would choose family over power now, there was no doubt about it. She had chosen politics and power over her personal life for too long. When she had had power, as queen of Meereen, she had felt as lonely as she could be, wondering if that was the price of power. Jon had made her question that supposition. Perhaps there could be a balance, perhaps they did not have to be a dichotomy. Why should she even choose between family and power? Why couldn’t both of them have power together? She loved him more than anything in her life, and if he loved her as much, he would be king with her. Would he, though?

It was difficult to hold back his tears. The biggest question of his life had been answered: _Where do I come from?_   Additionally, there were questions that they both had had in their lives that had also been answered: _Where do I belong? Will I ever have a home? Will I always be this lonely? Will I ever be happy? Will I ever be loved?_ For too long, their heads had been filled with questions. However, as their lips clashed, such questions crashed. They loved each other. They belonged together. They came from the same blood. They could be happy together. They did not have to be lonely their whole lives.

He plucked up the strength to let go of the kiss to tell her, “I love you.”

Her face lit up between his hands, and a tear fell out of both her eyes right away. “I love you too. Immensely. More than I have ever loved anyone.”

Before he could cry harder, he kissed her again. The love they felt was stronger than it had ever felt. They could feel it in their stomach, in their arms, in their legs, in their groins. She let out a small moan while they kissed, he did not know if it was because she was crying or aroused, but he kept on kissing her, pushing his tongue gently into her mouth. When words failed, sometimes acts could be more meaningful and communicative. Caresses, kisses, even licks could communicate their love for one another, their willingness to be together always, their reassurance that this was as serious as they wanted it. Jon wanted to marry Dany, Dany wanted to marry Jon, only they had not let one another know yet.

She held his head and kissed his damp eyelids, the bags under his eyes, his damp cheeks. They were soft and gentle kisses that made him cry even more. He would have never imagined someone would love him this much.

They restarted the kiss. Their mouths were wide open against one another, their lips clashed and their tongues danced together. Their breathing got faster and louder, and their bodies acted on their own, wanting desperately to be against one another, as close as they could be; united, as they would always be. Dany pushed the furs away from them and they fell to the floor. He took off his doublet urgently, with her help to lift it off his arms. She passed her hand over his scarred chest as he stretched his body to take his shirt off. He pushed his shoes out of his feet. There was not a single time she watched his scars and did not feel frustrated about his death, about him wanting to protect others and being killed for it. She pushed him down and kissed his scarred chest, just above his heart, where he had the deepest scar. He breathed deeply as he felt her full lips tracing kisses down his torso, arriving at the scars in his abdomen. She pressed her lips to them, opened her mouth and closed it against his skin. He caressed her head with one hand and held her hand with the other one as she went on.

She felt his abdomen rising and falling fiercely under her lips. His arousal increased hers, and the throb between her legs made her kneel up in front of him to take off her robes. He sat up right away, helping her do so, revealing her naked body. He felt his member hardening. They had made love every night for an entire month, yet he still had too much love inside of him to give to her. He caressed the sides of her torso from her hips to her armpits, passing his thumbs over her breasts. She arched her body down to kiss him again. He held her by the waist and placed her horizontally on the couch, with her back against the armrest. He placed himself on top of her, breathing hard and feeling his cock growing more erect. The bed was close to them, the bed was wide, but none of them could interrupt themselves to get there. He caressed the side of her head and she stroked the sides of his torso up and down. Their lips, those hungry lips wanted to give the other all the love they could. Those lips could pronounce sweet and true words if they wanted, but the kisses they could give, at least for now, seemed even more meaningful. Sometimes words were hard to choose, or were not enough to describe feelings as strong as this one. And so his lips left hers and kissed a nipple, massaging her breast with his hand. She breathed deeply, feeling her nipples hardening and her cunt burning for him. She caressed his curls and freely let out a moan.

 _Who would ever dare to love a dragon?_ Dany used to ask herself. Jon had seen beyond that dragon, beyond her dragon queen façade. Jon, he was the blood of the dragon as well. Her blood boiled as it ran through her veins and quickened her heartbeat, just like his blood. The same blood in two different bodies, which were pressed together, eager to be one, eager to be even more united than they already were.

How could he have even thought that having the same blood running through their veins could be anything but wrong? There was something bigger that united them, something destined, something written before they had even been born. They had not chosen to have the same blood, yet here they were, loving each other more than they had ever loved anyone, having more in common than what they would have ever guessed.

She opened her legs and placed them over his hip, capturing his whole body in a tight embrace, an embrace that meant that she wanted him and would never leave his side. She hoped such an embrace could communicate this better, could transmit this in a better way than only saying those words out loud. He replied with a hungrier kiss, with his tongue in her warm mouth massaging hers, trying to say he understood what her message was. And as he took hold of his cock in his hand and pushed it inside of her, making them both hum in pleasure, he hoped he was transmitting better than with words how he wanted them to be united forever. Her warm walls stretched and contracted around him, massaging his member. He thrust deeply but gently into her. It did not feel like fucking, like it had felt with Ygritte, or even some nights with Dany when they just had fun. It was a tender act, it was nothing but absolute love.

Dany’s hips tingled, and bucked up to get more of him inside her. She held the sides of his neck with both hands and slid them up to the side of his face, and stared at him with a grin, a grin in a red and swollen face, still damp with tears, just like his. With every thrust, she let out small moans, loving the feeling of his hardness inside her but also his weight rubbing her clit with every movement.

No one had ever loved her this way. No one had chosen her, Dany, to love. It had been a dragon queen Daario had loved, it had been his wife Khal Drogo had loved. Jon loved _her_. It made her cry even more. Likewise, she loved him. No matter who he truly was, no matter the son of who he was. No matter if he was a bastard or the heir to a throne. She loved Jon, just like Jon loved Dany.

“I’m here,” she breathed. “I will always be here.”

Her family. Finally, she had found her family. It was him, it had always been him. Such attraction to him had not only been infatuation, it had been destiny. They used to live on opposite sides of the world, so far away from each other, and they had finally met. Everything that had happened had been for them to meet. Living the life of a bastard, being a brother of the Night’s Watch, living with the Wildlings, being King in the North…just as it had been with her: being sold to the dothraki, losing Khal Drogo, hatching her dragons, crossing the Red Waste, being queen of Meereen and freeing the unsullied. If they had known back then, that it would all lead them to each other, their suffering would have probably been more bearable.

Countless thoughts about Dany bombarded his mind: her selfless devotion to the people, her fearlessness as she rode dragons, her generosity to come north of the wall and save them, then staying by his side on the ship until he woke up, promising to fight against the White Walkers without asking for nothing in return, and then loving him, loving him harder than he could ever imagine it possible. Dany, who had risked everything to save his life. Jon had always risked his life for others and here she was, risking hers for him. His only family, his _only_ family. He pumped in and out of her. She moaned, he moaned.

The number of feelings and thoughts in his mind made his body tremble, and he could not keep on moving. He allowed himself to cry again, laying down on her. She held him close, stroking the side of his face.

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “I understand.”

They lay in silence for some moments, with their sweaty skin pressed together, with their heartbeats and breaths slowing down. Dany caressed his ear and Jon caressed the side of her ribcage with a thumb. He took in her scent. What a lovely moment this was. How he would love for it to last forever. His cock was still hard against her thigh, and she was still aroused as well. But holding each other this way felt so good, so loving.

After a while, with his head on her shoulder, he started kissing her neck. He left wide kisses on it and bit it ocassionally, making her hum and even moan. His kisses grew wider against her sweaty skin, and when her legs moved up again against his waist, he positioned his body and thrust into her again. She welcomed him back happily. She held the sides of his face and kissed him. His back arched and stretched as he went in and out, feeling the sweet massage that her cunt was giving him. Their hands. They did not know what to do with them. They held the other’s face, their neck, Dany held his back, Jon held her jaw, Dany held his arse, Jon held her breast. Caresses and strokes. Everywhere. They did not want to leave an inch of the other’s body untouched, unloved. Jon finally decided to place his elbow next to her head for balance, while his free arm stretched down to pleasure her clit. She let out a beautiful moan once he pressed it. She was so wet his fingers moved easily in circles against it.

“Yes,” she moaned, “ _yes_.”

Moans, breaths, skin against skin, all their sounds overshadowed the sound of the fire now, he could no longer hear it. Their breaths were the loudest, the breath of two dragons, warm as Rhaegal and Drogon’s, passionate as the fire that they breathed. He moaned, she moaned. Two dragons breathed fire, passion, in the midst of Winterfell’s cold.

Theirs had been lives full of questions and no answers. Two lives pushing their own personal history aside to devote themselves to their people and duty. He pushed in deeply, wanting to be as inside of her as he could, wanting to finally stop pushing love aside to fulfill his duty.

Dany desperately hoped his seed would take when he came in her, with his cock deep in her and a choked moan against her neck. But she knew such wishes were in vain. She finished moments later, when an electricity ran up her whole body, clouded her mind, her fears, her anxieties, and completely locked her to the present moment as her muscles tensed and she cried his name, holding him close. He kissed the side of her face. Both of them wondered how could it be possible for there to be so much love inside them, hidden for so long, waiting for someone to wake it up.

She had experienced true love with him for the first time, a selfless love, one where she nor he expected anything in return for their sacrifices. It was such a potent love that she wished with all her strength that his seed would take, that she could magically be fertile again. How she would love to have a family with him! But even so, if she was barren, only she and he would still be family. They were family, literally. Children or not, married or not, Jon was his family already.

Her body hurt from the position she was in, but she still held him down for him to remain inside her. They smiled at each other as she caressed his beard from his ear to his chin. He closed his eyes and cherished the moment. They kissed again. Slowly, gently, there was no rush now. They had just made love and assured one another the strength of their love. They both knew it well now. He pressed tiny kisses to her lips, making loud sounds that made her chuckle. She stuck out her tongue and licked his lips. He grinned. When else had he grinned so many times in a row? The kiss lengthened, but was not less tender. And just like that, his cock started hardening once again inside her. She noticed it right away and smiled against his mouth. But before they started again, they moved to the bed.

* * *

She lay in bed staring at the roof, while he lay on his side, staring at her with the help of the candles on their sides and the weakened fire from the fireplace.

“I’ve always thought of myself as…not a part of the Starks.”

“You are a Stark,” she said. “You are your Ned Stark's son. Everyone says so. You are the most honest and honorable man I have met. And yet, you’re a Targaryen too. It does not have to be one or the other.”

He rubbed her chest from her shoulder to the start of her breasts, and then back up. He had never truly felt like a Stark. He had never felt welcomed here at Winterfell. How ironic that he was now the King in this castle. But a Targaryen? That had never crossed his mind. He had loved the stories of Targaryens and their dragons when he was a child, but those were extinct magical animals and an extinct family. He had been reading Targaryen stories inside the walls of this castle, in the home of the Starks.

“I meant what I said about the throne,” he said. “This can stay between us and the claim will still be yours.”

She turned her head, only her head, to face him, and pressed two tiny kisses to his lips.

“It is our duty,” she said. “And you would be a great King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

He shook his head slightly. “I’m weary of ruling. And you deserve it more than I do.”

“Why do I?”

“You’ve sacrificed everything for your people…”

“And you haven’t?”

He sighed, resting his hand on the side of her neck.

“You’ve been fighting for that throne for years, are you letting it go this easily?”

She smiled with her eyes closed. “I’m not letting it go.” He waited for her to continue. “Don’t you want to be with me…always?”

“Yes,” he replied right away, before understanding what she meant.

“Me too,” she replied. “And I’m tired of choosing duty over love.”

He was too. He loved her. But being the King…how could that be?

 _‘The Targaryens have such a terrible reputation in Westeros,'_ she had told him once _, 'I want to turn it around. I want to make up to Westeros every wrong that my father and some other Targaryens have done. It is my duty.’_ Dany pondered over it. With him, they could restore the people’s views of their family. A couple of Targaryens, the _last_ Targaryens, making the world a little less bad, as she had always wanted. She savored the idea, it felt wonderful. It would be even more wonderful, though, if they could have children. They would restore the bloodline that way. The dynasty would not die with them. But those wishes did not serve for anything but her own frustration. Such a thing would never happen.

He closed his eyes and felt her nose against his. Her eyes were closed as well. They were in a quiet silence, both their minds were busy, contemplating their future together.

But death, death was close, perhaps. Death was threatening, it made them wonder if they should be thinking about their future together, about ruling Westeros if they would die in the Great War anyway. Why did they have to be the heroes? Why couldn’t they be common people, living together in a modest home with a few children? However, death was also a push for them to cherish every moment they had. Especially their moments together. As they breathed together now, naked, caressing each other, they knew they had to take in the present moment as if it were the most precious object they had ever held or seen.

In a tiny voice, she broke the silence, saying once again: “I love you.”

Her breath reached his face as she pronounced those words, and they hung in the air like the sweetest song he had ever heard.

“I love you.”

He wanted to marry her. She wanted to marry him. He felt like love should be a priority over duty. But for the first time in his life, he did not have to give up one for the other.

As for Dany, she had been sad to see the Starks reuniting. Happy for Jon but sad about herself, always wanting a family but never having one. Yet here they were, she and Jon, in their own family reunion. Their own unexpected family reunion.

The uncertainty was over; about his parentage, about her love for him, about her desire for the Throne being stronger than her love for him. This had been the test of fire, of literal fire. Their love was unconditional.

His trembling hand had knocked on her door the night their love started, and it had done so tonight to assure them it was unconditional.

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE MY OTP.  
> I have to set clear that this is fiction and it is done through the minds of Jon and Dany in a context where aunt/nephew relationships are fine. Their thoughts and sexual attraction to their own blood are not my own views, yet I understand the characters’ desires and their love in the context of ASOIAF where incest is quite common. I love this OTP and I ship them with my entire heart and I understand why these relatives love each other and will still love each other after they find out the truth. But don’t confuse their thoughts with mine.  
> PS: Reminder that you can still help UN Women in the name of the Jonerys fandom thanks to a lovely charity drive created by @got-addict on tumblr with which +1000 pounds have been collected already!  
> I hope you guys, but especially you, vm86, have enjoyed this fic. <3 <3 <3  
> hmu on tumblrrr: @bendthekneejon


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